


Jumpers and Oxfords

by jeeno2



Series: Short Stories From the Vortex [6]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Kissing, Mild Sexual Content, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4626792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/pseuds/jeeno2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-shot written for the following prompt from timepetalsprompts:</p><p>"Shortly after his regeneration the Tenth Doctor finds himself in Rose’s bedroom. Once there he discovers she’s keeping a stash of *HIS* jumpers, one of which is resting on her pillow."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jumpers and Oxfords

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't decide whether this rated as a heavy T or a mild M. I rated it M to be on the safe side.

The minute the door to the TARDIS swings closed behind Jackie Tyler, Rose – who had been sitting very quietly and demurely beside the Doctor on the jumpseat throughout her mum’s visit – pounces on him.

“We’re alone, finally,” the Doctor murmurs.  She laughs, then, her mouth less than a half-inch away from his as she pushes him, gently but insistently, onto his back.

* * *

 

The Doctor thought he knew Rose Tyler, before.  He thought he knew everything about her – from the kind of chips she likes best to the way she doesn’t want him to know it when she’s crying; from her favorite rubbish things to watch on telly to the way her lips part, just a little, on the rare occasions she’s fallen asleep next to him.

But now that they’re together – really, properly together, ever since that stupid row after New Earth when she’d called him a git and he’d admitted he’d been one and then he kissed her,  _really_  properly kissed her for the first time – he realizes there’s so much more to Rose Tyler than he’d ever known.

“We should go to your room,” he suggests quietly, his breath coming faster now, his hearts already racing as she starts undoing his tie.  Her nimble fingers are making very quick work of the knot, which would amaze the Doctor if most of the blood usually in his head weren’t suddenly rushing to points much further south.  “Jackie might come back for some reason, and I really don’t want to regenerate again this afternoon.  I just got this new body.”

Rose laughs a little and gingerly climbs off him.

“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Moving to the bedroom is probably a good idea.”

She pulls him off the jump seat by the hand and tugs him, very willingly, back to her bedroom, both of them giggling and giddy as teenagers.

* * *

 

Once her bedroom door is safely shut behind them Rose wastes no time.  She pushes him up against the wall of her room, undoing the top buttons of his Oxford as her hungry mouth moves over his neck, along his jaw.

All of Rose’s nervous hesitation from a week ago – when they were still dancing round their feelings for one another – is gone now.  Now, she is coordinated and in charge.  As she pins his body to the wall with her much smaller one, his lips move urgently against hers, far too intoxicated by the feel of her lithe body pressed up against him, and by the way her mouth is all but devouring his, to do anything but kiss her back desperately.

She grabs him by the front of his collar, then, wrenching a whimper from his throat, as she tries to pull him even closer.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, Rose,” he tells her breathlessly, for the hundredth time in a week, panting a little as he leans over to trail kisses down along her jaw, her throat.  She shudders at the contact of his lips and tongue to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, at the feel of his glasses pressing into her neck.  It makes him feel victorious, powerful, that he can have this effect on her.  "Ever since you first came on board.”

“Me… me too, Doctor,” she whispers, her eyes closed, her head leaning back to allow him better access.  He works his way back up her neck and his teeth graze her earlobe, making her gasp. 

And then she’s winding her hands into his hair and pulling his face back up to hers.  When their lips meet again the contact is rough and frantic, and the Doctor thrusts his tongue into her mouth without preamble.  Rose reciprocates, sliding her tongue along his, causing him to moan raggedly into her mouth and making her push his body more forcibly into the wall. He is vaguely aware that some sort of electrical socket is cutting into his back. He doesn’t care. 

Without breaking the kiss, the Doctor deftly unbuttons the top few buttons of Rose’s dress with one hand. He leans forward and peppers her collarbone and the tops of her breasts with open-mouthed kisses, nipping and licking and sucking at her like she is water and he is a man dying of thirst. She arches into him and he hears a quiet moan, only realizing a moment later that it’s coming from him.  

His hand is shaking a little, but he palms one of her breasts through her bra and squeezes gently, making her cry out.  He draws one of her legs between his own and pushes himself against her.  

She can feel him now, all of him, the firmness of his growing erection pressing urgently against her thigh.  And he knows it.  He buries his head in her neck and moans softly, knowing he is nothing but helpless putty in Rose Tyler’s hands.

* * *

 

Much later – when they’re lying together underneath her pink duvet, their arms and legs entwined and her head resting gently on his chest – the Doctor notices a small slip of fabric sticking out from underneath Rose’s pillow.

Frowning, and with his curiosity piqued, he peers underneath the pillow to see what it is.  

And gives a small strangled cry when he realizes what he’s looking at.

“You… kept this?” he asks incredulously as he slowly, carefully pulls out one of the jumpers he used to wear from underneath her pillow.  He displaces her gently from his chest and holds it up to the light, blinking at it dumbly.

Rose rolls over so she’s facing him.

“I did,” she admits.  “There are three more in my bottom drawer.”

“Why?” The Doctor closes his eyes and tries to fight off a sudden, intense resurgence of the jealousy that plagued him his first few days in this body.  He reminds himself what he and Rose just did together – right here, this very afternoon – in her bed.  He grits his teeth, and his hands clutch at the fabric of his old jumper with a vise grip, as the painful memory of Rose Tyler telling him she wanted him to  _change back_  comes to the forefront of his mind.  

As if she can read his unspoken thoughts Rose gently places her hand on his arm.

“I kept it because I love you,” she tells him.  He opens his eyes.  She’s looking at him with so much devotion in her smile it takes his breath away.

“I don’t understand,” he admits. Because he doesn't.

Her smile grows wider.  “I love you,” she tells him again.  “I’ve always loved you, I think.  But I don’t have any pictures of you from when you were younger, or from before we met.”  She presses a gentle kiss to the back of his hand.  “I just figured holding on to clothes you used to wear is the closest I’ll ever be able to get to making a scrapbook of our adventures together.”

Tossing the jumper to the foot of the bed the Doctor lays back down next to her.  

“But we have souvenirs from every place we’ve ever been,” he protests quietly, willing his hearts to stop pounding in his chest.  Willing his lungs to keep pulling in air.  He knows he probably sounds like a petulant child but he can’t seem to make himself stop.  “They’re all over the TARDIS.  You don’t need to keep dodgy old things that he -- err, that is to say, that  _I --_ used to wear. _”_

 _She preferred me then_ , he doesn’t say. _She imagines that other daft face when she’s kissing mine.  She wants the_ other _me back.  She won’t ever love me the way she loved him.  She’s going to leave me, and --_

Rose cuts off the litany of self-hatred that’s running through his mind with a gentle press of her mouth to his.  He whimpers, pulling her close, deepening the kiss, terrified that if he lets her go she’ll disappear.

“You were wearing that jumper the night we first met, Doctor,” she murmurs against his lips.  She presses kisses to the tip of his nose; to his cheeks; to his forehead.  “The night that I met  _you_.  Not the night I met some other bloke.”  She looks at him meaningfully.  Knowingly.  “That jumper will always be important to me and I’m not bloody getting rid of it.”

He’s quiet for a very long moment after that as he lets the meaning of her words sink in.  At length he pulls her into his arms and sighs, mollified.

“So I’m still the Doctor, then?” he asks her quietly, one side of his mouth quirking up into a half-smile.

The smile she gives him in return would outshine any supernova.

“No arguments from me,” she whispers before tugging him back down for another searing kiss.


End file.
